


Aoba Johsai University Host Club

by eclectic_literature



Category: Haikyuu!!, Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Ouran High School Host Club, Comedy, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Host Club! AU, Host Clubs, Humor, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectic_literature/pseuds/eclectic_literature
Summary: Working-class student Iwaizumi Hajime gets a scholarship to the ridiculously rich Aoba Johsai University, but once there he finds himself inexplicably caught up in the Seijoh Host Club - a bunch of rich boys with too much time on their hands who spend their time entertaining guests with equally too much time on their hands. Now Hajime is forced to be a host alongside this motley bunch whom he has nothing in common with, especially their alarmingly vivacious President, Oikawa Tooru. Surely there is nothing he can gain from hanging with a bunch of brats - or can he?





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s mostly being charming over tea and ensuring our clients have a good time.”
> 
> “That sounds very, uh, niche.”

Iwaizumi Hajime was trying not to outright gape, but it was a losing battle. He’d _heard_ of how luxurious Aoba Johsai was, but the guest dorms were like five-star hotels and the mess had an a la carte menu. He’d arrived early at the guest house on Friday morning – classes officially started on Monday – and slept on some ridiculous orthopaedic mattress, waking up feeling more rested than he had in years. Then he’d breakfasted on some delicious omurice, drunk coffee made from _actual beans_ and taken a long, hot shower.

As if that weren’t enough, he was now being led through manicured lawns and various animal topiaries down a shady path strewn with fallen cherry blossoms. This was his introduction to the actual place he’d be staying at – the Seijoh House. He knew that the university was considered one of the best in the country, and when they’d offered him a scholarship once he sat for their exam, he’d accepted despite having to adjust to the class differences that would crop up between him and the other students. So here he was, one of the dozen scholarship candidates the university accepted every year, pursuing an honours course in economics. His dad had been proud but tearful about his leaving Miyagi to go so far away. Hajime made a note to call him, along with several other things on his schedule.

Ahead of him, the deputy president of the Student Welfare Department - Yachi, that was her name – chattered as they walked, her blonde head shining in the sun. He blinked and took a closer look and – were those _actual_ precious stones in that hairband? Well, he shouldn’t be so surprised. Everyone here was loaded. Aoba Johsai had the dubious distinction of producing both the brightest minds in the country as well as hosting the most extravagant parties. He tightened his hands on the straps of his very ordinary bought-at-70-percent-off sling bag – thankfully, university-branded stationery and clothes were an optional purchase. His clothes were neatly pressed but very ordinary, and his most expensive possession was probably his laptop. He’d be provided with the course material, as well as waiving of his tuition and any establishment charges.

He followed her past several dedicated fraternity houses and felt his heartbeat quicken as they headed down a secluded path marked _Seijoh_. This was it. This decided his next four years here. He gave a brief thought to beds, rooms, music through the night, drinking parties and all-nighters and sneaking out at 3AM to make out with a pretty girl in her dorm room, and then he stopped wondering because Yachi opened one of the doors and for a second it was so bright inside he was blinded.

When he stood in the doorway, he saw an umpteen number of heads turned towards him, and resisted the urge to take a step back.

“This is the newest resident of the house!” Yachi said cheerfully, “Please welcome him!” She gave him a little bow and turned to leave, and why was she blushing?  
“Iwaizumi Hajime. I’ll be in your care.” It came out more formally than he’d like, but having that many gazes trained on him had hindered his brain. He hoped he wasn’t flushing, and took to examining the faces of everyone, just to show he wouldn't be intimidated. He mentally categorized them as _nice_ , _hostile_ and _neutral._ (Also, was it just him or was the general population of residents just really tall?)

“Hey hey hey!” exclaimed one of the guys he’d categorized as _nice_ , “Welcome to our castle!”  
He rushed forward to envelope Iwaizumi in a crushing bear hug, his arms iron-strong. “You’re in first year, yeah?”  
“Yes,” Hajime said, giving him a small smile. “And you are...?”  
“Before that, Bokuto-san,” came a calm voice from one of the _neutrals_ , “shouldn’t we let him know just what it is we do here?”  
“Huh? But hasn’t he come here to join us? We need new members!” Bokuto exclaimed.  
“...members?” Hajime asked, trying to be polite. “I thought this was just a residential dorm.”

The _neutral_ who had spoken shook his head. “You must have been misinformed. This fraternity house is reserved for the members of the Host Club.”

 _Host club, host club, host club_ – the words rang in Hajime’s head as he struggled to picture the lot of them in pretty dresses and low lighting, flirting and giggling with drunk men, all while downing only a single glass of wine throughout the evening. His face must have given him away, because most of the group broke out into grins. Bokuto laughed, and really his laugh was so stereotypically royal and snooty that Hajime felt his lips twitch. The guy was pretty infectiously friendly.

“We’re a host club who cater to people in the university,” the neutral explained, “We organize festivals and events. It’s not the kind of hosting you’re thinking of. It’s mostly being charming over tea and ensuring our clients have a good time.”

“That sounds very, uh, niche.” Hajime tried, and endured another round of grins. “But there must have been a mistake. I’m a scholarship student, so I didn’t put in any requests for special housing or anything. I was told that I was allotted the dorm here.”

Bokuto brightened. “An actual _scholarship_ student? Holy crap! You’re one of like ten that make it each year! You must be super smart!”  
Hajime was too concerned about the roof over his head to be flattered. “I guess. Then I should head back to the main building to clear this up, I suppose?”  
“No need,” came a new voice from behind Bokuto, “You’re here, Hajime-chan, because _I_ asked for it.”

The guy who spoke was one Hajime had pegged as _hostile_ even though he was smiling – because Hajime had never seen colder eyes or a nicer smile in his life. He was about as tall as Bokuto, but slim and streamlined where Bokuto was broad and muscular. His hair was chocolate-brown and coiffed, and his eyes were a matching colour, his voice a mild, pleasant tenor with fluid diction. He wore a lavender shirt under a cream V-neck sweater and khaki pants with dress shoes – who the hell dressed like that casually? The guy was super-attractive, yes, and normally Hajime would have been interested, but he was also radiating _trouble_ in big capital neon letters. Hajime wasn’t religious, but even he knew getting into it with a senior on the first day of college wouldn’t be an auspicious start.

So what he said was, “I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that, and why would _you_ ask for me to be shifted here?”  
“Isn’t it obvious?” the man asked, “I want you to be part of the host club!”  
“Huuuuuh?”  
“...at least, I did.” The man admitted, crossing his hands and pouting. “Your admission picture was _much_ more impressive, Hajime-kun.” He still hadn’t dropped the first name, but it would do for whatever little time Hajime had left before he got the _fuck_ out of here.  
“You look at my admission photograph?”  
“Yes! We were scouting for new members of the Host Club, and entrants through the regular route,” _He means money,_ Hajime reminded himself, “are given the choice to apply. Scholarship students, however, have to be sponsored since they don’t pay for the club activities. So I was looking through the pictures of the scholarship kids because, you know, we need someone who’s got that little something, and you were the only one who stood out. So I sponsored you.”  
“Um, do I get a choice? Or am I just supposed to get on my knees and be grateful?”  
The man wrinkled his elegant nose. “Akaashi just told you, we’re not _that_ sort of host club.”

 _I’ll kill him,_ Hajime thought to himself. _I’ll get a good job, earn a shitload of money and dispatch a hitman after him._ Out loud he said, “So, I can humbly reject your offer and leave?”  
The man shrugged, “That’s up to you, of course.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at a tall kid who nodded impassively and disappeared. “Before that, however, could we tempt you with a cup of tea?”  
Hajime’s eyes widened in panic. “Uh, you don’t have to go to the trouble...”  
The man flapped a hand dismissively. “Nonsense, it would be remiss of us to let you refuse without at least giving you a _taste_ of what it is we do here.”  
“Good pun,” said one of the _nice_ guys, “A taste, indeed. Today’s special is the carrot cake with cinnamon icing, served with Assam black tea.”

Hajime was ushered into a plush...salon, he supposed it would be called. It was more like an enormous – _enormous_ – hall decked up as a salon, with plush couches and low coffee tables everywhere and pleasant instrumental music in the background. Domestic staff in butler and maid costumes carried in trays of tea, their expressions ridiculously solemn. Hajime made eye contact with one of them and was hard-pressed to hide his smile.

“ _I’ll_ be your host for today,” the brunet from earlier said charmingly, but Hajime was still trying to get those cold, analytical eyes out of his head. So what came out was, “Do you have a name, then?”  
The guy raised his eyebrows. “Of course, I’m sorry. My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I’m the president of the Seijoh Host Club. Would you like milk in your tea?”  
“I can make it, thanks,” Hajime said, taking his cup and making the tea to his liking. He took a sip and looked up to see Oikawa watching him. “What is it?”  
“Aren’t you interested in the guest experience?”  
“Does that entail you making empty talk with me while I eat?”  
Oikawa’s smile sharpened dangerously. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Hajime-kun.”  
“I’ll pass, thanks. Nice cake though,” Hajime added, and took another slice because he was on a budget and it really was delicious. He noticed that only a few members were still milling around. “Where did the others go?”  
“They’re preparing for tomorrow. We host our first batch of clientele for the new semester,” Oikawa explained.  
“People pay to drink tea and talk with you?” Hajime asked in disbelief, “Where do they find the time? Not to mention the patience?”  
“The Host Club is dedicated to creating a pleasant environment to enhance the mental wellbeing of its guests,” Oikawa said coldly, and for the first time Hajime felt a little ashamed of his rudeness. What did it matter to him how the financially-secure-for-generations-to-come spent their time?  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to crap on your whole parade,” he admitted gruffly.  
“I assure you that you didn’t defecate on my parade. Now, I trust you are done with the cake?”  
Hajime cast a longing look at the slices before getting up and taking his bag. “Anyway, thanks for the offer, Oikawa-san. I’m pretty sure you had good intentions, sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Of course,” Oikawa exclaimed, getting up as well, “No hard feelings on my end either. However,” and suddenly he was close and his eyes were warm and seductive, “I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other, _Hajime_.”

Hajime’s reaction was instinctive, both to the invasion of his personal space and the urge to put some distance between himself and the sheer _magnetism_ Oikawa was radiating. Something about the way Oikawa said his name made his vision suddenly waver, as if his brain was trying to save his senses from being overwhelmed. He leapt back, stumbled and bumped into a table as he regained his footing – _oh shit_ – and there was a resounding crash as _something_ that was fragile and probably very expensive now lay in a million pieces on the floor – and _why_ was the floor not carpeted when every _other_ luxury was present in the room? Hajime stared down at the mess in horror. “W-what was that?” he croaked. “Holy shit, I am _so_ sorry, I tripped—”  
“ _That_ ,” came a bored, monotonous voice somewhere behind him, “was a Renaissance vase gifted to the director of the university by the head of a certain European country.”  
“R—Renaissance?” Hajime gaped at the blond with the glasses (classification: _hostile_ ) standing behind him.  
“Indeed,” the blond sighed, “I remember it being valued at somewhere around 8 million yen.”

Eight million. Eight followed by six zeros. Hajime was fairly certain that was more than his parents had earned in a _lifetime._ How on earth would he pay it back? His rosy visions of the future evaporated as he considered a life of genteel servitude. Maybe he should ask the waitstaff how much they earned here...

“Hajime-kun?” Oikawa was saying, “Are you alright?”  
“I’m fine. Incidentally, do you accept payments in instalments?”  
The blond was now operating a calculator. “Assuming you start making the payments after you graduate, estimating an average graduate’s salary in your field and factoring in living expenses, you’ll be paying us for the next fifteen to twenty years. Are you okay with that?”  
Hajime silently bid goodbye to his idea of travelling the world when he had enough money. He may or may not have shed a single, manly tear. “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I? Could you draw up a contract?”  
“Oh, but you _do_ have a choice, Hajime-kun!” Oikawa chirped. “I’ll have you know it’s in my personal power as President to write off your debt as incidental expenses!”  
Hajime blinked at him. “You could do that?”  
“Of course. Who in the administration would go against our families?”  
“I see. Then what’s the catch?”  
“I beg your pardon?” Oikawa blinked at him innocently.  
Two could play at that game. Hajime made his voice cool and businesslike. “I don't know what you want from me in return, Oikawa-san, so how about you tell me.”  
“That’s super easy!” Oikawa clapped his hands. “Become a host!”

Hajime blinked at him. The refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but his circumstances had changed in the past two minutes. “What even makes you think I’ll make a good host?”  
Oikawa waved a hand. “Trust me, I can _tell_. You’re not bad-looking despite those dorky glasses and that ugly sweater—”  
“ _Hey._ ”  
“Once we get you some bespoke suits and do something about your hair, you should be good enough to have a few clientele.”  
“I’d just like to state for the record that I don’t really do small talk.”  
“That’s okay, you can talk about anything as long as it keeps your audience interested.” Oikawa paused significantly, “Even volleyball.”  
Hajime flushed. “You saw.”  
“Mmhmm. Japan Under-19 Youth League representative. One of the top three spikers in the country. Captained your team to the Spring High finals and defeated Tokyo prefecture for the first time in several years. Considered one of the best outside hitters in the country. What happened?”  
“Volleyball doesn’t pay as well as a regular job,” Hajime parroted his standard response, “And the risk of injury increases over time. I wanted a secure life, not an exciting one.”  
“I suppose poor people have to think about these things,” Oikawa murmured sympathetically. “Well, how about this, Hajime-kun? If you manage to get a roster of a hundred satisfied clients, I will consider your debt paid.”  
Hajime considered this – well, how long could it possibly take to impress a hundred guests? He _did_ have four years here, after all. It certainly beat trying to pay back the eight million once he got a job.  
He had no plans to join any extracurricular activities, after all. So that only left, “How much time will it take away from my academics?”  
“Only as much as you can spare,” Oikawa smiled reassuringly, “We have a minimum number of hours per year but it shouldn’t be hard to achieve at all. I’ll give you till the end of today to consider it. In the meanwhile, let me give you a more in-depth tour of the workings of the host club.”

He gestured, and all the present members filed out an adjoining door which let out to a flight of stairs. On the mezzanine floor was the cosily-decorated common room, with couches and bean bags strewn about. A set of stairs ran up to a narrow landing which ran along the four sides of the wall, opening to several doors on one side and overlooking the entire common room, courtyard-style.

All the members stood there, all the nice, hostile and neutral faces, and looked at him.  
“Right,” Oikawa cleared his throat, “If I were to give you a choice of any of the people here to spend half an hour over tea with, who would you choose? Smile, everyone!”  
Hajime felt himself flush as the entire room smiled at him all at once. It was a little unnerving, a little embarrassing. He scanned the faces, and almost settled on Oikawa’s but _no_ , he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, so he picked one of the nice guys, a silvery-haired, slim man with a certain warmth to him. “Um, him? I guess.”  
“Ah, Suga-chan,” Oikawa said, and surely his eyes didn’t _actually_ flash, “And why him?”  
“He seems...nice? Comforting.”  
“Oh, and Tsukki here doesn’t?” Oikawa indicated the blond.  
“...not really, no. He looks like he’d be laughing at you the whole time.”  
There was a round of sympathetic chuckles, and Hajime relaxed. Even Tsukki looked a little pleased.

“The guys here each have their own appeal,” Oikawa said with a flourish, “So, our clients choose which kind of guy they’d like to spend time with, and each of us provides a unique experience. We fulfil our clients’ whims for their allotted time and send them away satisfied.”  
“Satisfied,” Hajime echoed, and Oikawa’s cheeks pinkened a little. “I told you it’s not like that! Would you like an introduction to the types? Everyone line up!” He honest to God _clapped his hands_ like a spoilt prince and Hajime got irritated at him all over again.

“Bokuto Koutarou, the Man-Child. His appeal comes from the fact that he’s impulsive but really cheerful and has good intentions. Older people and those with a strong martyr streak tend to like him.”  
“I’m kind of intense, though,” Bokuto said proudly, “So my sessions are usually short.”  
“Kuroo Tetsurou, the Cunning type. He tends be flirtatious and indulge in mind games, and enjoys punning. His demographic is people who have a similar sense of humour and can take jokes at their expense.”  
“Izumi, huh? you certainly seem like a refreshing drink of water.”*  
Hajime rolled his eyes. “It’s _Iwaizumi,_ and ten points deducted for low effort.”  
“Sawamura Daichi, the Earthy type. He tends to be basic and straightforward. People who like feeling secure tend to go for him.”  
“Secure? But he’s so exciting,” Suga murmured from next to him, and Daichi flushed. “Suga!”  
“Sugawara Koushi, the homey type. He enjoys heartfelt conversations and taking care of people. Occasionally he has baking sessions with clients.” Suga gave him a sparkling smile and batted his eyelashes comically. Hajime felt himself grinning in reply.  
“Akaashi Keiji, the Silent and Enigmatic type. People seem to think that he’s really mysterious and constantly ask him mundane questions. He’s the most patient of us all, I suppose.”  
“He’s certainly patient with me!” Bokuto added brightly. Akaashi said nothing, but his face _somehow_ rearranged itself to look pleased without actually changing. Hajime was still staring at him, trying to figure it out, as Oikawa moved to the next person.  
“Tsukishima Kei, the Smart type. He uses his glasses and height quite effectively.” _Tsukki_ was still looking at him coolly, and Hajime decided he did not like how the guy had to look _down_ at him. The guy was ridiculously tall, even more than Kuroo, and Iwaizumi wondered if he was half-foreign.  
“Yamaguchi Tadashi, the Natural type. He just acts like himself, mostly!” Oikawa said, patting Yamaguchi’s head. The little tuft of hair on top of his head sprang back instantly and quivered with happiness, and his freckled cheeks suffused in a blush. “Nice to meet you,” he said with a shy smile. Hajime could imagine someone going in for that non-threatening presence.

“There’s Hinata Shouyou, our Manic Pixie Dream Boy. He’s really cute and optimistic about things and he’ll find something to compliment you about no matter what.” Hinata was small, with a mop of bright orange hair and big brown eyes. He gave Hajime a bright smile, and the tall sulky kid standing next to him frowned even more. “And that’s Kageyama Tobio, the Awkward type. He doesn’t really do anything except say blunt things and stay oblivious to flirting until people are blunt with him, but he has the second highest demand rate among our clients. Isn’t that right, Tobio-chan?”  
Kageyama flushed to the tip of his ears and assented reluctantly. Hajime tried not to grin – the kid would probably feel even worse.  
“What type are you, then?” Hajime asked Oikawa, who preened like a peacock.  
“I’m the Princely type! It’s my job to make my clients feel cherished and appreciated.” His eyes practically sparkled at the prospect, and Hajime was torn about whether to believe him. Could someone as coldly analytical as Oikawa seemed actually put that aside and ensure his guests had a good time? It must have shown on his face, because Oikawa said, “And you can trust I’m good at my job, Hajime-kun, because I have the highest demand rate among our current clients.”

“Impressive,” Hajime remarked politely, and Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “Of course, it’s not just us here. We have plenty of support members who work behind the scenes to set up our bashes. There’s Noyacchi, he’s the Boy Lolita type, there’s Asahi who’s the Gentle Giant type and there’s Tanaka who’s the Japanese Delinquent type. They don’t have as many clients, though, so they work only a few times a week. Oh! Where’s Kenma-chan?” Oikawa asked suddenly.  
“Hasn’t returned from home yet.” Kuroo volunteered.  
“Kenma occasionally fills in for the Introverted Geeky type, though most of the client sessions involving gaming or remote chatting. Then there’s Makki, Mattsun, Kindaichi, Kunimi, Yaku, Lev and Konoha working in the background – they’re not here right now – and we get a few part-timers from the university working for us as well.”  
“Just how big of an operation do you run here?” Hajime muttered.    
“It depends on the scale of things,” Oikawa explained, “For example, we usually have a huge Cherry Blossom Party in the Spring, and we invite staff as well since it’s the beginning of the academic year. We need everyone’s help in these situations.”  
“So couldn’t _I_ be support?” Hajime asked hopefully. The more he saw of this business, the less it looked like anything he would remotely associate with. Rich kids throwing parties and sweet-talking each other to death was hardly his idea of exciting (but not too exciting) university days.  
“Well, you see, support doesn’t really bring in much money, which is what we need you to compensate!” Oikawa explained brightly, as if Hajime were a child, “So I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a direct source of profit.”  
“So you’re pimping me out, so to speak.”  
“Yes,” Oikawa’s smile was suspiciously innocent, “So to speak.”  
“And if I refuse I’m gonna have to make payments for the next twenty years?”  
“Ballpark figure, but yes.” And Hajime couldn’t help thinking _Ballpark isn’t good enough when you’re talking_ indentured servitude, _you rich brat._ Aloud he said, “When do you expect me to start?”

Oikawa pursed his lips and gave him a once-over, like some fashion designer thinking her client needed a makeover. “Those terribly thick glasses have to be replaced, you need a proper wardrobe and goodness knows you can do with a haircut. But as soon as those have been taken care of you’re good to go. Are you a fast learner, Hajime-kun?”  
Hajime squared his shoulders and decided that if he was going to stick around, he might as well do a good job of it. “I’m a learn-by-doing type, theory’s not that good. If someone shows me the ropes I should be fine.” _Let’s see how long I go without frying my brain._  
Oikawa nodded, and at least he trusted Hajime to know his limitations. “Good, good. Would anyone volunteer for the task? Not _you_ , Suga-chan, you have a full day booked tomorrow, and your dark circles show up too easily. Daichi, will you do it?”  
“Ah, actually,” Sawamura rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, and Sugawara widened his eyes at Oikawa imploringly. “Ugh, fine. Kuroo?”  
“Sure,” Kuroo raised an eyebrow and smiled, and Hajime suddenly had a vision of that smile floating in thin air. Cheshire cat, indeed. “I’d like to get to know you better, Iwaizumi.”  
“Leave it to us,” came two bored voices from over Hajime’s shoulder. The two support members, Hanamaki and Matsukawa stood there. Hanamaki looked like he was up to something, and Matsukawa just looked...bored.  
“Come with us,” Hanamaki jerked a thumb towards one of the rooms. “We’ll set up your room. Your luggage should have come from the main building.”

Hajime obediently followed them up the stairs and into one of the rooms. Feeling eyes on his, he turned at his door and looked down at the common room, to see Oikawa standing there and looking at him, hands in his pockets, expression indescribable. For a moment, they stood staring at each other, and then Hajime went inside and shut his door with a decisive thud.

The room was definitely a step up from anywhere he’d been, with a queen-sized bed, a dresser and set of drawers, cupboards with way too much space for how much stuff he’d brought, and an en suite. Hell, he shared the single bathroom at home with his dad. He brought out his basic smartphone and set it to charge, then set about unpacking his trunk while Hanamaki and Matsukawa made themselves comfortable on the bed.

“So, where are you from?”  
“Miyagi. Sendai, technically.”  
“Oh, I heard the castle’s beautiful.”  
Hajime shrugged. “I guess. Being around it my entire life kind of killed the appeal, I guess.”  
“You seem like a nice person,” Hanamaki decided.  
“...that was quick.”  
“Though you’re obviously judging us. We’ll overlook it though.” Matsukawa said.  
“We’re nice that way.” Hanamaki added.  
“Really nice.”  
“The nicest.”  
“In fact we’re so nice, we’re going to let you benefit from our skills.”  
“Our exclusive skills.”  
“Yes, you’d be hard-pressed to find them elsewhere.”  
“One might almost say—”  
“One might, yes indeed—”  
“If one were feeling confident about such a declaration—”  
“Oh, yes, it doesn’t do to be half-minded at all—”  
“Get to it.” Hajime growled, and they both grinned in sync. It was unnerving.  
“We’re the only ones who can help you break out of your ridiculously unfashionable shell.”  
“So take off your shirt.”  
“...Huh?”  
“C’mon, Scholarship Boy. You need to get into some proper fitted clothes.”  
“We’ll get lenses ordered for you as well. Or just better frames.”  
“But we need to take a look at you first.”

Hajime shrugged and stood to take off his summer jacket and stood before them in his old gym tee and jeans. Now that he’d sworn off volleyball (it was too painful to play casually, still) he’d been going to the gym regularly and running to stay in shape. It paid off – he still retained the same muscle tone. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were clearly impressed.

“Wow, okay. So you’re a secret gym nut?”  
“Nothing secret about it.”  
“I’ll need your measurements,” Hanamaki said, producing a measuring tape with a flourish.  
“This is getting weird.”  
“It’s fine,” Matsukawa said, “You’re not really our type.”  
“We’d never invite you into a threesome.”  
“Thanks, I guess.”  
“Wanna play Choices? It’ll take your mind off it.”  
“Okay.”  
“Let’s start off easy. Red or blue?”  
“Blue.”  
“Beach or mountains?”  
“Beach.”  
“Serve or receive?”  
“Receive.”  
“Coffee or tea?”  
“Tea.”  
“Dogs or cats?”  
“Dogs.”  
“Eyes or lips?”  
“Eyes.”  
“Cold or warm?”  
“Warm.”  
“Bath or shower?”  
“Shower.”  
“Nights or mornings?” Hanamaki stepped back, having finished, but Matsukawa continued the game.  
“Mornings.”  
“Top or bottom?”  
“To—” Hajime stiffened and narrowed his eyes at them. “Way to be sneaky.”  
“Sorry, we were curious.” Hanamaki said airily.  
“You could’ve just asked. I’m bi, by the way.”  
“Yeah, we kind of figured.”  
“...how?”  
“We might have stalked your Facebook. For research.”  
“I regret asking,” Hajime snapped, feeling inexpicably exposed. Of course there was some stupid public photo of him with Ritsu somewhere. They’d dated for quite a while. He wasn’t ashamed, but it stung nonetheless that they had to see this proof of his failure to stay in a relationship.

“Okay, we’re really sorry.” The freaky duo said in unison.  
“It was a step too far, we know.”  
“Even Oikawa scolded us for it. Quite badly.”  
Hajime blinked. “He did? But he had no issues looking at my application.”  
“None of that was overly personal information, though.”  
“He cut our crafting privileges for a week.”  
Hajime decided he wouldn’t ask. “Are you done with my measurements?”  
“Yes! All that’s left is for us to go to the campus mall and pick out some new clothes. Sponsored by Host Club, naturally.”  
“And then you’re coming with us to the campus salon.”  
“Something tells me you could do with a mani-pedi.”  
“Though his skin is excellent.”  
“My dad forces me to apply sunscreen.” Hajime admitted sheepishly.  
“That explains it. Are you up for a facial, though?”  
“...”  
“You need to really have a glow if you want to attract the clients.”  
“First impressions are important—”  
“One may even go so far as to say they’re vital.”  
Hajime said, before the conversation could spiral out of control. “Alright, alright. Whatever it is.”  
They both turned hopeful eyes on him. “ _Really_?”  
“However,” Hajime said, “I have one condition.”  
“Yes!”  
“One.”  
“ _Anything_!” they chorused.  
“If you even _think_ —”  
“We would _never_ —”  
“—of bringing that waxing stuff near me, I swear I will kill you with my bare hands.”

\---

As promised, they skipped the waxing, but sneakily signed him up for a threading session instead. Those bastards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Izumi_ (泉) means Spring in Japanese, hence Kuroo cracking that terrible joke. 
> 
> So I basically ended up writing Makki and Mattsun like a mix of the Hitachiin Twins and Thomson & Thompson haha. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I have this idea that Iwa-chan is the type who would have a chip on his shoulder in this kind of circumstance, so he isn't going to be the calm type of protagonist Haruhi is.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this then please consider checking out my [other fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8513035/chapters/19511656), which is also in progress!


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